


Hooker!verse

by mithrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is the hooker Dean's hired for Sam for his birthday. Problem is, one look at those blue eyes and he wants Cas for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Green-Eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the Dean/Castiel AU (Jensen/Misha RPS) Kink Meme.

Sam’s turning twenty-one this year and Dean has Plans. Plans involving lots of alcohol, since what type of big brother would he be if he didn’t make sure Sam got totally shit-faced on his twenty-first?

He doesn’t get the idea for the hooker until later (after he may have been sampling some of the alcohol–just to make sure it’s OK).

Sam might be pissed at him, but that’s part of his job as a big brother too. Sam hardly ever gets laid (Dean has a sneaking suspicion he might even still be a virgin), so he decides to help him along.

And, because he really has had a lot of alcohol at this point, and because Sam has expressed so little interest in girls that he’s getting suspicious, when he calls the company he asks for a male hooker.

***

Sam’s birthday rolls around and Dean’s getting things ready, along with Ash, who knows how to throw a party. They don’t call him “Dr. Badass” for nothing.

There’s a knock on the door and when Dean opens it he’s confronted with the most gorgeous guy he’s ever seen in his life. He’s got eyes a mile deep, and so blue Dean wonders for a moment if he’s wearing contacts.

“Are you Dean Winchester?” the guy asks, and God, his _voice._

He swallows. “Yes?”

A small smile quirks the guy’s mouth up and Dean tries not to do anything too pathetic, like blush or, God help him, _sigh_. “Are you certain? I want to make sure I’m at the right place.”

Dean coughs and nods. “Uh, yeah, yeah you are.”

The guy smiles again. “My name is Castiel. You hired me for…your brother’s birthday, I believe?”

“What? Oh! Yeah, yeah I did.” _This_ is the hooker? He doesn’t act like one. Not that Dean has much experience with male prostitutes… “Uh…why don’t you come in?”

***

That night Sam comes to Dean’s house. Ash has used his contacts at a local bar to buy up what seems like half their inventory.

Dean waits until Sam’s buzzed to call Castiel out. “Since you never get any action on your own I decided to help you along. Happy birthday, Sammy.”

Sam bitchfaces at him. “A hooker, Dean? _Seriously?_ ”

Dean shrugs. “Why not?”

Sam gives a long-suffering sigh and rolls his eyes. “Get it over with.”

What follows is uncomfortable for everyone. Dean’s positive Sam has never had a lapdance before, especially not from a guy. And the fact that Dean wishes _he_ was the one getting the lapdance is just awkward.

And Castiel is _good_ (of course) coming up behind Sam and trailing his fingers down his arm as he sashays around in front of Sam and settles down.

Sam is red as a tomato by the end of it, and Dean resolves to keep an eye out for retribution–Sam doesn’t have his skill at pranks (who does?) but he can still dish out some pretty impressive stuff.

When Castiel leaves, he says to Dean, “If you ever need anything again, keep me in mind.” He’s not looking at Sam.

Dean nods. “Thanks, I will.”

That remark gives him the courage to slip Castiel a note along with the cash: His phone number, followed by _Dinner sometime?_  



	2. Out of His Element

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel go on a date.

A few days after Sam’s birthday Dean’s cell phone rings. He doesn’t recognize the number, but picks up anyway.

“Hello?”

“Dean? It’s Castiel.”

And he knew that, knew from the first word. It’s entirely possible he’s been having dreams about that voice. “Hey. What’s up?”

“You mentioned dinner?”

Of course he had. Get it together, Winchester. “Sure, yeah. When are you free?”

“Does Friday night work for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Do you want to meet me, or should I pick you up?”

“How about I pick you up?”

Dean swallows. “OK.”

“Does eight work?”

“Yeah, yeah, eight’s fine.”

“See you then.”

He hangs up the phone to see Sam looking at him. “Who was that?”

Dean coughs. “It was…uh…Castiel.”

“The hooker? How’d he get your cell number?”

Dean barely stops himself from snapping at Sam for calling Castiel a hooker, since he’s only stating a fact. “I, uh…I gave it to him.”

“You _gave_ it to him? And it sounded like you made a _date_ with him!”

“So what if I did?” Dean snaps.

“He’s a _hooker,_ Dean! You don’t go on dates with hookers!”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t! Are you gonna pay him?”

“No! What the hell, Sam?”

“So you expect him to put out for free?”

“It’s a _date!_ I’m not–” Dean growls in frustration. “There’s no way to tell if it’ll even go that far.”

Sam considers him for a second. “You’re actually serious?”

Dean sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Even if it goes well, you know it can’t be exclusive, right?” Sam asks softly.

“I’m…trying not to think about that. Besides, it might be a train-wreck.” He hopes not, but it’s best to be prepared for the worst.

***

Dean’s nervous all Friday afternoon, and Sam rolling his eyes at him doesn’t help. He puts on a button-down shirt and nice pants and waits.

At 8:03 the doorbell rings.

It’s Castiel, wearing a royal-blue shirt that makes his eyes look even more intense than they already are. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, stepping outside and locking up.

Castiel’s car is a beige Civic, not a Lexxus or an Audi or whatever Dean had been subconsciously expecting.

“So where did you want to go?”

“Steakhouse OK?” Dean asks. He’d thought a lot about where to take Castiel, and the Steakhouse isn’t a four-star restaurant, but it’s not fast food, either.

Castiel nods and pulls out of the driveway.

The drive there is awkward. Dean can’t think of what to say.

***

Once they’re seated, Castiel picks up the menu. Dean glances over his own menu, but he has a pretty good idea what he’s getting.

The waitress comes over. “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

“I’ll have an iced tea,” Castiel says.

“And for you?” she asks Dean.

“Rolling Rock.”

“One iced tea, one Rolling Rock. Should be out in a few minutes.”

“Thanks.”

She leaves, and the silence stretches. After a moment Dean asks, “Do you know what you’re getting?”

Castiel sets the menu aside. “I believe I’ll have the chicken sandwich.”

“At a _steakhouse?_ Dude, come on!”

“What are you getting?”

“T-bone,” Dean says with relish.

Silence again. “So why do you–?” Dean stops, his face heating. He’s got no right to ask that.

“Why do I have sex for money?” Castiel asks without rancor, and Dean nods, slumping in his seat.

“I’m trying to put myself through college. It’s expensive.”

Of all the answers Dean expected, that wasn’t one of them. “But aren’t there, like, loans and grants and…things?” he ends lamely. He never went to college and doesn’t want to admit his ignorance.

“You have to pay back loans, and the interest is worse than the payments. And with the economy the way it is the government isn’t giving out as many grants.”

“Ah. So, college for what?” Dean asks, trying to steer the conversation to something he knew a little more about.

“Library sciences.”

Dean stares. “Seriously?”

They’re interrupted by the waitress coming back with their drinks. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yeah, we are,” Dean says. “I’ll have the T-Bone. Rare.”

“Fries, onion rings or coleslaw?”

“Onion rings,” Dean says. He sees Castiel shudder slightly.

“And for you?”

“The chicken sandwich.”

“Fries, onion rings or coleslaw?”

“Coleslaw,” Castiel says, and it’s Dean’s turn to shudder.

“One rare T-Bone and onion rings and one chicken sandwich and coleslaw,” she says as she takes the menus. “Be a few minutes.”

“So what’s wrong with library sciences?” Castiel asks when she’s gone.

“Nothing, nothing! Just, isn’t it kinda boring?”

“I like it.”

Dean considers him. “Yeah, I could see you as one of those sexy librarians. Most of them don’t have your side job, though.”

“It’s only until I graduate. What about you? What do you do?”

“I run a garage,” Dean says proudly. He may not have gone to college, or even finished high school, but he worked himself up from a mechanic.

“Really? I could never do that. I can barely fix a flat tire. Everything under the hood looks the same.”

“Yeah, well, I could never figure out whatever crazy indexing libraries use, so we’re even,” Dean says, but he’s pleased nonetheless.

“So why library sciences?” Dean asks, and Castiel goes off on a story of how he’d been socially awkward in school and preferred to read rather than interact with other kids, how he’d made friends with the librarian and she’d let him eat lunch in the library rather than going to the cafeteria, which was a social minefield of cliques and designated seats.

“So I decided I wanted to do that,” he finishes, and Dean nods. “What about you? Why a garage?”

Dean shrugs uncomfortably. “I’ve always been good at fixing cars. It seemed logical.”

The waitress comes back with their food just then, which Dean’s grateful for, since Castiel concentrates on eating and doesn’t ask any more awkward questions.

He can’t help being distracted by Castiel’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, the way his cheeks hollow and his lips curve around the straw as he sips his drink. Dean tries not to think about Castiel’s cheeks stretched around his cock.

“So when you’ve got your dream job as a librarian, what then? You gonna settle down, have a family?”

Castiel swallows, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve…never really thought about it. I suppose so, at some point. What about you?”

“Not too many women wanna date a high school drop-out,” Dean replies, and, crap, he said that.

“You dropped out of high school?” Castiel asks in surprise. “Why?”

Dean glares at him defiantly. “Our mom died when we were younger, and when I was fifteen Dad had a heart attack. I had to drop out, get a job so I could take care of Sammy. A friend of Dad’s gave me a job at his garage, and I worked my way up. When he retired he gave me the garage.”

Castiel considers this for a moment, then says, “Your brother is lucky to have you.”

Dean mutters something incomprehensible in response, then says, “But Sammy’s in college. He got a full-ride. Wants to be a lawyer.”

Castiel nods. He’s almost done with his sandwich, and Dean’s finished his steak.

“You want dessert?” Dean asks him.

“No thank you.”

“Do you mind if I have some?”

“No. Go ahead.”

So when the waitress comes by again to take their plates Dean orders apple pie a la mode and asks for the check. When Castiel reaches for his wallet Dean waves him away. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah. My treat.”

Castiel is silent for a moment, then he says, “Then I’m covering the tip.”

Dean laughs. “Sure.”

The waitress comes back, and Dean pays her, then turns to his pie. The Steakhouse makes the best apple pie in the state.

He’s eaten about half of it when he notices Castiel watching him. “You want some?”

“No, it’s fine, you eat it,” Castiel says quickly.

“Aw, c’mon!” Dean takes a forkful of the pie and holds it out to him. The ice cream is about to drip onto the table when Castiel finally leans forward. His lips close around the fork and he makes a pleased noise in his throat. Dean shifts in his seat.

“You wanna finish it?” Dean asks.

“No, that’s fine.”

“Oh for–” Dean rolls his eyes and pushes the plate across the table. “Finish the damn pie already!”

Castiel does, and Dean spends some more time watching him and trying to keep his thoughts PG-rated.

Castiel sets his fork down and asks, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Castiel leaves the tip and they head out to the car. “I enjoyed this,” he says quietly as they leave the restaurant.

“Did you? Good.”

“Most of my encounters are in seedy motel rooms, or the occasional bachelorette party. Not restaurants. It was nice to be treated like a human being for once.”

Dean stops, throttling down rage that Castiel was forced to put up with that, anger at the people who didn’t appreciate what they were getting. “If you don’t like it, why do you–”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Castiel says. “It’s not that bad, really.”

Dean nods reluctantly and lets it go.

***

When they get back to the house, Dean swallows nervously. “I’m...glad you had a good time,” he says, and Castiel smiles at him. Dean puts the smile in the same category as his voice, as his knees go weak.

“We could…do this again maybe. Only if you want, I mean, but if you wanted to be treated like a human–”

Castiel cuts him off with a kiss. His lips are soft. “I’d like that.”

“Oh,” Dean says. “Um. Well. OK.”

Castiel smiles at him again.


	3. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel start getting serious, and Dean gets jealous.

Dean calls Castiel again a week later. “Hey, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to a movie. If you’re not busy with school or…whatever.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, then Castiel says, “I’d like that.”

“So what do you want to see?”

This causes some discussion. Castiel doesn’t want to watch an action movie, and Dean refuses to watch whatever indie film he’s suggesting. Finally they settle on a thriller that just opened.

Castiel picks Dean up again, and when they get to the theater he says, “I’m paying.”

“But–”

“You paid last time,” he insists. “I’m paying.”

“Fine, then,” Dean says. “But I’m getting refreshments.”

Castiel smiles and nods.

At the refreshment stand there’s another disagreement. Dean wants a large popcorn, Castiel says a small is enough. Dean wants butter, Castiel doesn’t. They settle for a medium with light butter. Dean gets a Dr. Pepper and Milk Duds, and Castiel gets a Coke and Raisinets.

The theater is packed, even though they got there early, so they end up in a seat near the back. They get settled, and sit through the idiotic “Screenvision” or whatever it is.

“I hate that guy,” Dean mutters. “And what’s the point of having commercials at the movies?”

Castiel makes a noncommittal noise.

Then the lights go down and the movie starts.

It’s pretty good, but thriller or not it doesn’t hold his attention. Not with Castiel sitting in the seat next to him.

About halfway through the movie, Castiel puts his hand on Dean’s thigh.

Dean stiffens and looks at him. Castiel looks back, his expression uncertain. After a moment Dean slides his hand underneath Castiel’s and curls his fingers around it. He thinks he hears Castiel sigh softly, but he’s not sure.

They go on watching the movie for awhile, until Dean feels a hand on his chin, turning him to the left.

When Castiel kisses him this time it’s more than just a brush of lips, though it’s still tentative. Dean inhales sharply, then kisses back, sliding his tongue into Castiel’s mouth after a moment.

Castiel pulls back and rests his forehead against Dean’s.

He doesn’t concentrate on the movie much after that.

When the lights come up again Castiel asks, “Would you like to come back to my place?”

Dean’s tempted, he’s _so_ tempted, but… “No.” At the hurt expression that crosses Castiel’s face he continues hastily, “This is only our second date, Cas. I want to take things slow, do it right.”

Castiel cocks his head at him. “Cas?” he repeats.

Dean feels his face heat. “Uh, sorry, dunno where that came from, it just–”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel– _Cas_ –says softly, and Dean smiles.

“But I would like to…to do this again, see you, I mean. I just don’t…”

Cas nods. “Alright then.”

But after Cas has dropped him off Dean reflects bitterly that his noble intentions and determination to do the right thing don’t mean squat. Tomorrow night, or later this week, Cas is going to hook up with a random stranger who doesn’t know him, doesn’t want to know him, and let them fuck him or eat them out. He clenches his fists at the slow roil of envy in his gut.

***

They see each other pretty regularly, but after a month the subject of sex hasn’t come up again. It’s always there, hanging between them, but neither of them want to talk about it, just like Dean doesn’t talk about his growing jealousy and Cas doesn’t mention his job.

One day they’re in Dean’s room, sprawled on his bed. Cas’ head is in his lap, and Dean might, possibly, be carding his fingers through Cas’ hair, but if you asked him about it he’d totally deny it.

“Is Castiel your real name?” Dean asks.

“Hmm?” Cas opens his eyes to look at him. “Yes. Castiel Novak. Why?”

“Well, uh…” Dean flounders, “It’s kinda…exotic. I thought you might have…picked it.” _Stupid, stupid, shut up!_

“No,” Cas says, closing his eyes again. “It’s my real name.”

Dean sighs, relieved that Cas didn’t take offense. But he has to open his mouth again a few minutes later. “How long til you graduate?”

“Only another year.”

“Did you ever try to get a scholarship?”

“Once, when I first started college.”

“But not after that?” Dean presses.

“No. There was no need.”

“You should try to get one again.”

Cas sits up at that. “Why?”

Dean fidgets. “Well, it…might be a good thing.” He doesn’t want to admit that the thought of anyone else touching Cas makes him sick.

“But there’s no reason to,” Cas says, looking him straight in the eye. “I make enough money as it is.”

 _That’s the_ problem! But rather than admitting that he’s jealous, like he knows Cas wants him to, he gets angry. If Cas doesn’t care about him enough to– “Do you _like_ being a whore?”

Cas goes rigid, and his face loses all expression. “No Dean,” he says coldly. “I do not like being a whore.”

And before Dean can say anything he’s gotten up and left the room. A moment later the front door opens and then closes again.

Dean stares at the door for a moment, trying to figure out how he’d been so _monumentally_ stupid, then puts a pillow over his head and screams, “ _FUCK!_ ”


	4. Lines of Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally manages to explain himself.

Sam finds him with the pillow still over his head when he gets home a half hour later.

“What’s the matter with you?” Dean hears from the door, “Are you sick or something?”

“Yes,” Dean tells the pillow, his voice muffled.

“Do you need some aspirin, or…”

Dean throws the pillow across the room. “Not _that_ kind of sick!”

When Sam gets a look at his face he stares. “Dude, what happened?” He pauses a moment. “Wasn’t Castiel supposed to come over today?”

Dean rolls over and buries his face in his arms. “He was. He did.”

“What did you do?” He can practically _hear_ Sam’s bitchface.

“Why is everything automatically _my_ fault?” Dean protests.

“Because ninety-nine percent of the time it is. So what did you do?”

Dean tells him, staring at the wall the whole time. When he’s finished Sam says, “Dude, you know I love you, but you’re a moron.”

“You think I don’t _know_ that?”

“I warned you when you first started going out with him–”

“Because I _so_ need to hear I told you so right now Sam, thanks.”

Sam’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “So what are you going to do?”

Dean shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him you were jealous? Now he’s gonna think you think you’re better than him.”

“I don’t _know!_ He wanted me to, but I…I couldn’t.”

“Moron,” Sam repeats. “Have you called him?”

“No.”

“Well?”

“I’m not _calling_ him Sam, Jesus!”

Sam crosses his arms and bitchfaces at him.

Dean heaves a sigh. “ _Fine,_ God you’re impossible!” He gets out his cell phone and dials Cas’ number. It rings three times and then goes to voicemail. “No answer.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. He could be in class or…busy,” Sam finishes awkwardly.

Dean feels another stab of envy, but he shakes his head. “If he was in class his phone would be off. It would’ve gone straight to voicemail. He’s ignoring me.”

“Still, you can try again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

***

Dean calls Cas three times over the next week, and he never picks up. Finally he gives up and deletes Cas’ number.

“Dude, you gotta do something,” Sam says.

“Why bother?”

“Oh dude, no. You are _not_ being lovesick and miserable like you were when Anna broke up with you.”

Dean scowls. Stupid Crowley and his stupid rich family.

“If he won’t answer the phone you’re just going to have to go over there.”

Dean stares. “You’re insane. Besides, I don’t know where he lives.”

“You know his last name don’t you?”

“Yeah, Novak,” Dean says absently, “But–”

“So that’s what the internet’s for. Look him up.”

“I’m not going to _show up at his door._ ” Dean protests. “Besides he’d probably slam it in my face, if he answered at all.”

“At least you’d’ve tried.”

Dean snorts. “Whatever, Sam.”

***

He waits another week before he finally looks Castiel up on the internet.

It takes some doing, but he finally tracks him to an apartment near campus. He writes down the address and then ignores it for three days.

But it’s there, staring at him, and he remembers the way Cas had kissed him... _dammit._

He grabs the address, half-crumpling it, snags his jacket from where it’s lying in a heap on the couch and leaves.

He finds the complex easily enough, but once he’s at Cas’ door he starts to have second thoughts. Cas might not be home, or he might not answer the door.

 _Grow a pair, Winchester,_ he thinks in disgust and knocks on the door.

He stands there awkwardly for a couple minutes, waiting for an answer. He debates going back to the car, but that’s too much like giving up. He knocks again. “Cas? Are you home?”

There’s the sound of footsteps and then Cas opens the door, his expression bewildered, hurt and irritated. “Dean? What are you doing here? How did you–”

Dean ignores him. “We need to talk.”

Cas’ face hardens. “I don’t wish to talk to you, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, tough. At least let me explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain. I thought you were different, but evidently I was mistaken.”

“I _am_ different!” Dean protests, stepping forward and grabbing Cas’ arms.

Cas blinks at him, and Dean flushes, pulling away and closing the door. He rubs the back of his neck, then says, “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“You obviously did. I fail to see why you bothered with me if I disgust you so much. At least this explains your reluctance to have sex.”

“My…dammit Cas, it’s not like that! I didn’t want to have sex with you when you asked because I didn’t want to be like one of those skeezy guys who had sex with you and then dropped you!”

“But–”

“Yeah, I think the fact that you’re a hooker is disgusting,” Dean cuts him off, “But it’s disgusting because you’re giving yourself to people who don’t know you, who don’t give a damn about you except as a warm body and will probably forget you within a few days. It’s demeaning, and you don’t deserve that!”

“But you said–”

Dean heaves a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I said that because I hate the idea of you with other people. I hate the idea of other people seeing you like that, especially when I haven’t. You’re _mine;_ no one else should get to touch you!”

Cas stares at him for a moment, his mouth open. Then he pulls himself together and says, “So you were jealous.”

“Yeah, I was jealous,” Dean agrees. “I was so jealous it made me sick.” He moves forward again, pressing Cas against the wall and kissing him. It’s not gentle or tender this time. It’s possessive and hungry, full of intent.

Cas makes a small noise and opens his mouth. Dean takes the invitation, plunging his tongue into Cas’ mouth and exploring, taking. He knows on some level that this won’t make any difference, that even if they have sex Cas will still be selling himself. That makes him angry, and only more determined to stake a prior claim.

But, however urgent the need is, he doesn’t want to hurt Cas, doesn’t want him passive. He tears away from Cas’ mouth, moving down to suck and nip at his throat. There’s already a bruise there, left by someone else, and Dean growls and seals his mouth over it.

Cas moans and his hands tug at Dean’s hair. Dean gives the hickey a final swipe with his tongue and pulls back, lets Cas pull him up for a kiss.

“Bedroom.” Cas says. He’s only a little out of breath, the bastard.

“Fuck, yes!” Dean gasps back.

Cas leads him to the bedroom and kisses him again, and _God,_ he can kiss. “What do you want?”

Dean knows what he wants, knows exactly what he wants, but he’s not going to assume anything. “That depends on you.”

Cas looks briefly taken aback, like he’s not used to having any control, and Dean wishes he could hunt down all the people who made basic consideration a shock to him. “Really, I don’t care. Honestly,” he adds, at Dean’s skeptical look.

“Can I fuck you?”

“You have to ask?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I do.”

Cas smiles at him, slow and sweet and heartbreaking, and says, “Yes.”

Permission given, Dean dives back in, determined to kiss Cas breathless. He doesn’t quite succeed, but Cas is definitely not quite as calm as he was before. He pulls Cas’ T-shirt off and takes him in. He’d expected skinny, but Cas is all long lines and lean muscle.

“Like what you see?” Cas asks, and Dean can tell by the way he says it that it’s a stock line, but there’s genuine uncertainty underneath the flirtation.

Dean runs his hands up Cas’ sides, over his chest, stroking his thumbs over Cas’ nipples. “Yeah. I do.”

He presses Cas back on the bed and moves to undo his jeans. “This isn’t all about me, you know. You make me feel skeezy, just sitting there.”

“Sorry. I’m not used to…” Cas trails off, but Dean’s knows what he was going to say. He’s not used to having sex with a person he cares about, not used to having sex with someone who cares about him, who treats him like a person instead of a means to get off.

“I know. But really, do what you want.”

Cas nods, and his hands move around to squeeze Dean’s ass, and then he pulls him forward, leaning back so Dean ends up on top of him, still fully-dressed. Dean toes off his shoes and socks and moves to straddle Cas.

Cas’ hands move under his shirt, pulling it off slowly, then he leans down to lick tortuously up Dean’s neck. Dean gasps and throws his head back, his hands clutching at Cas’ hips.

Cas pulls back, and Dean can see his smirk. He grinds up slowly, deliberately, and Dean groans and thrusts down. He needs to get his jeans off…

Then Cas’ hands are at his belt, pulling it through the loops and opening his jeans, and Dean moves off him to pull them off.

Cas kicks off his shoes in the meantime, but when he reaches for his own jeans, Dean grabs his wrist. “Let me?”

Cas nods, and Dean unzips his jeans. Cas lifts up, lets him pull them off, along with his boxers.

Then Dean drops to his knees and takes Cas’ cock in his mouth.

Cas gasps in shock, then manages, “Dean, what are you…?”

Dean pulls off and whispers, “How often does someone do this for you?”

“Not…not often.”

“OK then,” Dean says, and bends back down.

He may not have as much experience at this as Cas does, but it’s not his first time either. He takes his time, figuring out what Cas likes, what makes him gasp and moan and arch up.

“I thought…you wanted to…fuck me,” Cas pants, and Dean gives a final swipe of his tongue and pulls off.

“I do. But I’m not just going to shove you down and have my way with you. There’s such a thing as foreplay.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I’m aware of that, thank you.”

“Yeah, but usually you’re the only one bothering with it, am I right?”

Cas doesn’t answer, which is answer enough. After a moment, he says, “What if I want you to?”

Dean blinks. “What if you want me to what?”

“Shove me down and have your way with me.”

A bolt of lust goes through him at the words, and he swallows. “Sure?”

“Dean. It’s my business to be sure. Just make sure you use a condom.”

Because Cas has probably been exposed to all kinds of diseases. The thought makes his stomach squirm unpleasantly. “You got one?”

It’s a rhetorical question more than anything. Cas gets up and goes to the nightstand, handing him a condom and a bottle of lube, then grins at him. “So are you gonna just sit there, or are you gonna fuck me? Put your money where your mouth is, Winchester.”

Dean growls and pushes him down. “Don’t _ever._ Mention money. While we’re having sex.”

Cas sobers and nods. Dean takes the lube and squirts some on his fingers, working them into Cas’ ass. He’s loose, taking two fingers at once, and Dean is as rough as he can be without hurting him. When he massages over his prostate Cas gasps, “ _Dean!_ ” and something snaps inside him. Cas is gasping _his_ name, not anyone else’s. _He’s_ the one doing this to him.

He puts two more fingers in, stretching him out, and Cas whines and arches toward him. Dean takes a couple more minutes to prepare him, then pulls out, tears open the condom and rolls it on, slicks it up with more lube and presses in.

Cas lets out a long, shuddering groan, and for a second Dean thinks he’s hurting him, but then he shoves back. “Harder.”

“You sure?”

“ _Harder!_ ” Cas growls, and clenches around him.

Dean groans, pulls out and slams back in again. Cas’ hands claw at his back and pull him down. Dean takes Cas’ ear between his teeth and tugs on it, moves down to suck on his throat as he pounds into him.

“You’re _mine!_ ” Dean growls. “No one’s ever gonna touch you again!”

“Dean… _Dean!_ ”

“ _Say it!_ ”

“Yours!” Cas moans, and the words send Dean over the edge. He comes with Cas’ name on his lips, as he feels Cas clenching around him.

He collapses on top of Cas for a moment, before pulling out. Cas hisses as he does, and Dean’s immediately contrite. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Cas looks taken aback again, before shaking his head. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Good.” Dean takes off the condom and ties it off, grimacing, then goes to get a cloth to clean up.

He finds the bathroom, chucks the condom and grabs a washcloth, going back to the bedroom and tossing it to Cas. “Here.”

He takes it gratefully, as Dean slips back in bed. “You’re staying.”

“Yeah. That is if…if you don’t have anything else to do.” _Or any_ one _else._ He’s not fooling himself that this means anything; Cas is still going to be having sex with other people. But for now, they have this, and it’s enough. It’ll have to be.

“Not tonight,” Cas says, settling in next to him.

Just as Dean’s drifting off, he hears Cas say, “I’ll start looking for a scholarship tomorrow.”

Dean smiles and pulls him closer.


End file.
